


We Close At Six

by beAUtiful (future_fishy)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Bisexual Katsuki Yuuri, Chubby Katsuki Yuuri, Dating, Family, Flirting, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Light BDSM, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sex Toys, Single Dad AU, Spanking, Vicchan Lives, Virgin Katsuki Yuuri, mention of sugar daddies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2018-09-08 05:07:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8831638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/future_fishy/pseuds/beAUtiful
Summary: Yuuri works at the rental desk of an ice rink. Viktor is a business man who happens to go to said ice rink every day after work. Throw in an adopted son, a gossipy best friend and a lot of mutual pining and you get this.





	1. There he was again

**Author's Note:**

> Most of the skaters are gonna turn up in this at some point, so just pretend this is set in some unspecified English speaking country. (Probably a British-ish one since that's where I live)

There he was again. That beautiful man who turned up forty-five minutes before they closed in a designer suit and rented a pair of skates. Yuuri was sure he could afford to buy his own; there was even a shop that sold them right next-door. But no, he strolled up to the counter forty-five minutes to closing and asked for a pair of size eights.

“We close at six.” Yuuri told him, every time, “You only have forty-five minutes.”

Size-eights flashed him that playboy smile and said, slightly accented, “That is enough time.”

So Yuuri got him the skates. The size eights were supposed to be on a high shelf, but when he and Phichit’s shifts overlapped — like they had earlier that day — organisation went out the window. Gossip was infinitely more interesting than putting stakes back on the right shelf. Yuuri bent over to look at the lower shelves and managed to find a pair of size eights that had been put back with the kids skates.

“There you go.” Yuuri handed them over, customer service smile.

Size-eights payed with a crisp note out of his fancy leather wallet that probably cost more than Yuuri’s entire outfit, “Thank you, Yuuri-with-two-Us.”

Yuuri had no idea why he called him that. He was always too nervous to ask.

 

* * *

 

There he was again. That beautiful man who worked the rental desk at the rink a ten minute walk from Viktor’s office. Yuuri, his name-tag said; like his adopted sort-of-son’s name but with an extra U. Yuuri-with-two-Us, to avoid confusion. Beautiful, beautiful Yuuri-with-two-Us, who worked the last shift every week day.

“We close at six.” He was told, every time, and _god_ Viktor knew. It was the reason he left work without so much as a cursory goodbye. “You only have forty-five minutes.”

And that was enough, it had to be enough, because Viktor needed to go home and make dinner and make sure Yuri wasn’t failing English.

Viktor flashed a smile, this was his only free time and he wasn’t going to miss an opportunity to flirt, “That is enough time.”

And now the best part, because one of two things was going to happen: either Yuuri-with-two-Us was going to reach to the top shelf and his shirt would ride up, giving Viktor a peak at his soft stomach; or _oh god it was the second one._ He bent over to look on the bottom shelf and Viktor almost cried. Arrest whoever came up with the employee dress code because the way Yuuri’s plush ass and thick thighs looked in those black athletic leggings was illegal. Viktor imagined what it would be like to spank him, to have those thighs either side of his hips, either side of his _face_. He’d save that image for later, when he was alone in his king-sized bed with nothing but his neglected love life and high-end sex toys for company.

“There you go.” Yuuri said with a friendly smile, and Viktor tried to look like he _wasn’t_ eye-banging him.

“Thank you, Yuuri-with-two-Us.” He said, and handed over his shoes.

 

* * *

 

Viktor quickly got into the rink to have his now forty-one minutes of skating time. Being out on the ice felt so freeing, and Viktor often wondered if in another life he would have pursued this as a career. He didn’t hate being a marketing executive, and it definitely payed well, but it was still a nine-to-five office job. It wasn’t particularly exciting. And, not to mention, there was a severe lack of gorgeous men with slappable asses. So he came down to the rink for forty-five minutes after work every day and rented skates he could easily afford to buy just so he could talk to Yuuri-with-two-Us.

He skated laps of the rink, not wanting to attempt much else while in well-tailored suit pants. He skated until there was a pleasant burn in his thighs, and before he knew it, Yuuri had walked out into the main rink area and started straightening out the benches. It couldn’t be six already, could it?

“Do I need to finish up?” Viktor asked, leaning on the rink wall near to where Yuuri was leaning over to push a bench back into place. _Jesus, Mary and Joseph those thighs will be the death of me._

“We close at six.” Yuuri said again, but then looked at Viktor with a non-customer-service smile and a light flush to his cheeks, “But my manager isn’t here, so I guess you can have until I finish moving these benches.”


	2. Fuck Marry Kill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Phichit, king of inappropriate workplace banter.

Yuuri didn’t normally work Sundays, but Guang Hong was reducing his hours to study for exams and Yuuri was happy to do some overtime. And he was working with Phichit on a slow day, so it hardly felt like work. They’d spent the morning playing fuck marry kill.

“Okay,” Phichit leaned back on his chair behind the rental desk, “let me get this straight. Or not-stright, as the case may be.”

Sundays were _really_ slow, and there was no way Yuuri could talk to Phichit for any length of time without mentioning the hot rich guy he’d let stay after closing time on Friday.

“This guy comes in, all Armani suit and playboy smile, every single day…” Phichit asked, “and rents a pair of skates right before we close?”

“Yeah.” Yuuri said, leaning over the counter. He was being paid to watch the customers and make sure no kids were messing about, but as there were all of four people in the rink at the moment, he figured they could survive without his supervision. “He turns up at quarter-past five, asks for a pair of size eights and does laps around the rink until six.”

“Weird.” Phichit’s chair tilted dangerously far back.

Yuuri hummed in agreement, “And he keeps calling me ‘Yuuri-with-two-Us’ for some reason.”

Phichit let his chair fall forward so all four legs were safely on the ground, “He’s fucking into you, dude.”

Yuuri flushed. There was no way. There was no way a man who looked like a model and dressed like a billionaire had any interest at all in Yuuri Katsuki, the average-looking, anxious ice-rink employee who only got the job because he was childhood friends with the owner/manager.

“No he is not.” Yuuri deadpanned.

“Yuuri, when you got him the skates, where did you get them from?” Phichit asked, and Yuuri had no idea where this was going.

“Bottom shelf, because _someone_ thinks the men’s skates go with the kids’ ones.” Yuuri snarked.

“So you bent over in your leggings and gave the guy a prime view of your ass?”

When Yuuri thought about it, the man had looked a little pinker when Yuuri stood back up to hand the skates over. Phichit watched the realisation hit him in real time.

“He totally checked you out, didn’t he?”

But Yuuri wasn’t listening. He was more interested in the two people who had just walked in. Yuuri ran through the side door to get behind the desk and gestured towards the customers.

“That’s him.” Yuuri stage whispered, and Phichit craned his neck to see.

“You sure? Silvery hair, standing with that blonde kid?” Yuuri nodded, “Holy shit, you got eye-banged by sugar daddy.”

Yuuri gaped at him. But he didn’t have time to respond because the man was walking over to the desk.

“Yuuri-with-two-Us? Have you always worked Sundays?” He was dressed casually, but he still looked richer than Yuuri could ever dream of being.

“I, uh,” Yuuri laughed nervously, and Phichit kicked him in the leg, “I’m working overtime. Covering, uh, for one of the college kids. Um, size eights?”

Phichit watched the man’s face carefully as Yuuri reached up to get the skates, and smirked when the man wet his lips. Just as an experiment, Phichit dropped his phone on the floor.

“Yuuri, be a dear and get that.” He said, gaze still fixed on sugar daddy’s handsome face.

And yeah, eye-banging didn’t quite cut it. Eye-fucking was a marginally better word, but that wasn’t exactly right either. If Yuuri came to him in a few weeks claiming to be pregnant, Phichit would believe him. The man didn’t just look hungry, he looked _starved._ Like he wanted to eat Yuuri alive. Phichit was suddenly a little concerned about Yuuri working week-day nights alone. But then Yuuri was handing over the skates and taking the cash and the man was smiling at him, all sweet and a little flirtatious.

“Fucking hell, Yuuri,” Phichit smirked, once the man was out of earshot, “you should have seen his face. Sugar daddy wants you.”

“What? No.” Yuuri insisted, “Why do you keep calling him that anyway?”

“Me and Guang Hong were people watching a few weeks ago when he came in, you know, looking all rich and sexy.” Phichit explained, “And you know how I am with people watching, I go straight for the bedroom stuff.”

“So… sugar daddy?” Yuuri asked, because he still didn’t get it.

“He looks like he’d buy you an iPad if you sucked his dick.”

 

* * *

 

Yuuri went back to actually doing his job for about half an hour before he got bored again. Two of the original customers left, another three came in. Yuuri tried to tell the blonde kid wearing all the leopard-print that he wasn’t supposed to sit on the rink wall, but the little shit flipped him off. Had enough of working, Yuuri went back to the rental desk and sat on the counter.

“Fuck marry kill?” Phichit asked, leaning forward on the counter so he could see what he had to work with.

Yuuri sighed, “I’m game.”

“Okay,” Phichit thought for a moment, then pointed subtly at his chosen victims, “Calvin Klein, sugar daddy, aaaaand… Yuuko.”

The guy Phichit had dubbed Calvin Klein looked like the douchey jock from every teen movie ever made, and had presumably earned the nickname from the fact that he was skating with his jeans half-way down his arse. Sugar daddy’s choice of clothes today were black Adidas track pants and a sweatshirt with a geometric design on it, the kind that was worth maybe £20 but actually cost £60. The trainers Yuuri had taken in exchange for the skates had a three digit price-tag. Yuuko was Yuuri’s childhood friend and owner of the ice-rink, and was only in the running because the rest of the customers were either clearly underage or too obviously a ‘kill’.

“Uhh,” Yuuri thought, and it didn’t take him long to decide, “kill Calvin Klein, fuck sugar daddy, marry Yuuko.”

Phichit made a fake buzzer noise with his mouth, “Wrong.”

“It’s my opinion, how can I be wrong?”

“What’s your reasoning then?” Phichit challenged, and Yuuri already knew that whatever he said it going to be wrong too.

“Calvin Klein looks like a fuckboy; sugar daddy’s hot; and Yuuko’s good with children.” Yuuri waited for Phichit to pick his words apart.

“Well, agree to disagree on who to kill, cause I’m picking Yuuko. No offence to your childhood crush but I don’t fuck women and I’m not having a hypothetical sexless marriage.” Phichit explained, “I’d fuck Calvin Klein—”

“Gross, why?”

“Don’t insult my taste in men, Yuuri.” He said, and left it at that, “Now here is where you went wrong.”

Yuuri stared at him, waiting for his friend to continue.

“You clearly marry sugar daddy.” Phichit acted like this was an irrefutable truth backed up by empirical evidence, “Several reasons: a) he’s super rich; b) he looks like he’s good in bed; c) even if he wasn’t, toys are a thing; and d) he’s good with kids.”

“How do you know he’s good with kids?” Yuuri asked, completely confused.

Phichit pointed to where sugar daddy seemed to be lightly scolding the blonde kid who had flipped him off earlier, “That’s his son.”

“What?”


	3. No Regrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suddenly, angst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone ask for angst? No? Well here's some anyway. And some smut.

Viktor Nikiforov went to bed alone.

When he took Yuri to the ice-rink on a Sunday the last thing he expected was to see Yuuri-with-two-Us behind the desk. He felt _guilty._ A part of him wanted to stay at that desk all day, flirt with Yuuri-2 and see if he couldn’t get a coffee date, at least. But he was there to spend time with Yuri (singular U), so he went to go skate as soon as he was handed his receipt.

Being a parent at twenty-seven was exhausting. Being the parent of a _teenager_ was just strange. It didn’t feel that long ago that Viktor was a teenager himself, but it was apparently long enough that Yuri’s issues seemed foreign to him. He felt young and irresponsible and old and out-of-touch, all at the same time. Ideally, he would still be childless and trying to carve out a social life outside of work. But also ideally, Yuri’s parents would be alive and he would have no need for a guardian, even a useless one like Viktor. He didn’t regret his decision, not for a second. When his aunt and uncle died, Viktor gladly volunteered to take in his unruly cousin. It was either him, or Viktor’s rather old-fashioned parents back in Russia, who would probably have a hard time accepting the loud music and leather jackets and long hair. Viktor, at least, was happy to let Yuri dress however he liked and had the flexibility to relocate so Yuri didn’t have to move schools, or _countries._ On top of his parents’s death, Viktor didn’t think Yuri would be able to manage with having his school friends taken away from him too.

It had been a rough year for the both of them; but Viktor had eventually convinced Yuri to put his skates back on a few weeks ago, and he’d gotten a smile out of Yuri today. It was at a stupid joke Viktor had told, but it was a smile. Viktor did not regret this at all.

That didn’t mean he didn’t get lonely though. At this point, he was sure he was single-handedly keeping the sex shop in business. But it wasn’t just sex; Viktor wanted someone to kiss him and hold him and pet his hair and _maybe pretty please take care of dinner tonight, honey, I’m tired._ And just lately he’d begun wanting a certain ice-rink employee to be that someone. Which was ridiculous, because Viktor barely even knew him. _God_ , maybe he was going mad with loneliness. Fuck it, he may as well get off.

Viktor rummaged around in the draw of his bedside table for the toy-safe lube and reached under his bed for the box he kept his toys in. He picked out one of the fleshlights, all of which had equally stupid product names, but, hey, a silicon asshole was better than his hand. He took out the sleeve part and went to his en suit bathroom to run the thing under hot water, warm it up so maybe he could pretend he wasn’t fucking a piece of plastic.

_God I need a boyfriend…_

When Viktor lay himself down on the bed again and used an ample amount of lube, he remembered a little fantasy he’d been saving. And now was the perfect time. Pushing the fleshlight down over his cock, Viktor pictured Yuuri-with-two-Us on all fours, perfect ass in the air. Pictured himself swinging his hand down to spank him, hard, leaving a red handprint against the skin. Viktor had no idea if Yuuri was into this sort of thing, but this wasn’t real, so, he supposed, fantasy-Yuuri could be into whatever he wanted. He spanked Yuuri again, in his head, and started pumping his cock slowly. He wanted this to last.

“We close at six.” Yuuri always said.

What would that voice sound like calling his name? Moaning it, chanting it, begging him to do something. How about whispering dirty things into his ear? Or groaning as he fucked Viktor into the mattress? Save that for later. Viktor wanted to kiss Yuuri’s soft stomach, so he did, in his head. Smoothed imaginary hands over imaginary thighs — kissed imaginary lips and cheeks and chest. He pounded into him and fantasy-Yuuri begged for _more, faster, harder, fuck Viktor please I need it._

And Viktor was fucking _gone_. He pushed and pulled, thrusted his hips up to meet the movement of his hand, keeping the fantasy in his head as he threw himself off the edge and came with a groan. In the aftermath, at the back of his mind he remembered that he’d have to spend the next ten minutes or so rinsing his own come out of a plastic ass.

_Fuck, I really need a boyfriend._


	4. Icepack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor _may_ have failed to mention a rather important thing, Phichit is the ultimate wingman, and Yuri is a rude child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long I had UCAS shit to do and I had to re-work half of this because what even is narrative voice. And I hope you like dialogue because that's what like 90% of this is.
> 
> More Angst™ at the beginning, I promise the next chapter will be angst-free.

Viktor closed the car door harder than he needed to. When he got the call from the school saying Yuri had got in a fight, he didn’t expect Yuri to be getting _suspended_. He had an attitude, sure, but he wasn’t a bad kid. Viktor had sat patiently beside Yuri in the headteacher’s office, trying to look like a responsible and concerned parent and smiling politely when he wanted to yell at the teacher as he explained what happened. Three older boys had cornered Yuri in the quad and called him names Viktor would rather not repeat, then the fight broke out. No matter how you looked at it, Yuri was the victim. But he threw the first punch, so _he_ was getting suspended too. ‘Zero tolerance policy’, apparently.

Yuri huffed, leaning against the passenger side window and holding a half-melted icepack to his bruised cheek, “So am I grounded?”

“I’m not punishing you for standing up for yourself.” Viktor said, “But I told work I’d need the rest of the day off, is there anything you want to do?”

Yuri fixed his gaze on something out of the window, “Get a smoothie and go to the rink?”

“Sounds like a plan. Do you want to go out for dinner too? I don’t feel like cooking.” Viktor smiled, “We could go for a cheeky Nando’s.”

Yuri cackled, “Never fucking say that again, that’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Wiped that sad look off your face though, didn’t it?”

 

* * *

 

With traffic and parking and going to get smoothies, it was a little past three by the time they reached the rink. Which was still earlier than Viktor had ever been there on a weekday. God, he hoped Yuuri-with-two-Us was there. Yuri had told him in the car that he wanted some time to skate around _alone_ without any distractions. Which gave Viktor an excuse to linger near the rental desk and flirt with a certain member of staff.

To Viktor’s delight, Yuuri-with-two-Us was behind the desk as he and Yuri walked in; and the chatty one they saw on Sundays (Viktor thought his name began with a P, but wasn't sure) was just leaving. He tapped Viktor on the shoulder as they passed each other.

“He’s single, by the way.” The man smiled and gestured towards the rental desk, “Just thought I’d let you know.”

_Bless this man._

“Oh, and maybe keep your eyes on his face when you talk to him?” Viktor flushed at the words, “Yeah, dude, you’re not subtle.”

Viktor didn’t have time to respond before the man walked away. Yuri rolled his eyes.

Viktor only had eyes for Yuuri as he walked up to the desk. Yuuri-with-two-Us rested his chin on his hand, watching a few people skate clumsy laps of the rink. Viktor saw the exact moment Yuuri noticed him: the slight widening of his eyes, the straightening of his posture, the light pink flush of his cheeks. The shy little smile. How the fuck was this guy single?

“You’re here early,” Yuuri-with-two-Us said, “you, uh, you’ll have more time to skate.”

Viktor shook his head, “I’m not skating today. I might later.”

Yuri took a sip of his smoothie, “I need size fives.”

“Please.” Viktor added, partly to amend the statement, partly to remind Yuri of his manners.

Yuuri got up to get the skates. The size fives were on a middle shelf, so no stretching up or bending over, unfortunately. Seeing Yuuri’s gorgeous ass in those leggings was a treat in and of itself though, so Viktor wasn’t complaining.

“Would you like another icepack?” Yuuri said, clearly trying not to look at the purple bruise forming on Yuri’s cheek, “We have some in the back.”

“Fuck off.” Yuri spat, all acid, “Pig.”

Viktor’s jaw dropped.

“Yuri, watch your mouth!” He scolded, once he’d recovered from the shock. Yuri just huffed a sigh and walked away.

_Well, shit._ Viktor had wanted to spend some time flirting, not apologising for Yuri’s behaviour. Sure, Yuri wasn’t having the best day, but there was no need for _that._

“I— I am so sorry. He’s having a rough day, I know that’s no excuse—” Viktor tried,

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s really not—”

“It’s _fine_.” Yuuri said again, “Look, I’m twenty-three, I’m not gonna cry because a teenager called me fat.”

“He still shouldn’t have said it.”

Yuuri sighed, “I’m not upset, honestly, just forget about it.”

Viktor studied the man’s face, and either Yuuri-with-two-Us was very good at hiding his emotions or it really didn’t bother him. His face did go a little pink under Viktor’s gaze though, which was _adorable_.

“What?” Yuuri laughed nervously, fiddling with his hair as he looked away.

Viktor smiled. Maybe he had a chance to flirt after all. “You are very pretty, Yuuri-with-two-Us.”

“What?” He repeated; voice pitched higher, cheeks redder. “I-if anyone’s pretty its you…”

And now it was Viktor’s turn to blush, because he felt like he was thirteen again and pining over his first boyfriend. If either of them noticed Yuri fake gagging from where he sat tying his skates, neither of them cared. They were too busy trying to calm down.

 

* * *

 

The longer it was silent between them the more awkward it got, and Yuuri felt an anxious need to say _something_. So he went with the thing he’d wanted to ask about since Phichit had told him ‘sugar daddy’ had a very teenage looking child.

“You, uh,” He began, “don’t look anywhere near old enough to be his father.”

The man laughed, and it was beautiful, “Well, I’m glad to hear that, because I’m not. Old enough. Or his father.”

And now Yuuri was confused, because Phichit had seemed so sure about sugar daddy being an actual dad.

“I’m Yuri’s legal guardian but we’re cousins. I suppose he’s technically my adopted son, but it seems weird to call him that.” Sugar daddy explained, “Parenting a teenager at twenty seven is already weird enough.”

"I'm sure you do a good job." Yuuri said, "So I guess he's Yuri with one U?"

The man laughed again, "Yeah, you can imagine how my crush having the same name as my kinda-son would get confusing."

Yuuri flushed a darker red than seemed humanly possible. Crush. As in him. As in Yuuri Katsuki, the ice rink employee. What the fuck? What the actual fuck?

"Uh. Um." Yuuri stuttered, "C-crush?"

"Oh dear, did I say that out loud?" He said, with perhaps the least convincing innocent smile Yuuri had ever seen.

Yuuri couldn't believe this. He couldn't. He didn't.

"Did- Did Phichit put you up to this? Because I saw him say something to you on the way out-"

"What? No, no, of course not. I really like you. A lot." The man said, seemingly a little flustered at the sudden accusation, "He just told me you were single."

"You like me?"

"Very much, yes." He smiled, sincerely, like he wasn’t joking, "And I'd quite like to take you out some time, if that's okay with you."

And Yuuri was going to say yes, say that it was definitely okay with him, but he had a sudden realisation: he didn’t even know this man’s name. He’d been calling him ‘sugar daddy’ in his head for the entire conversation.

“I’d love to know your name first.” Yuuri smiled, leaning forward a little on the desk. Hopefully his best attempt at flirting would distract from how awkward this was. Trying to be sexy generally just made Yuuri uncomfortable, but maybe he could pull it off.

_Fuck,_ Viktor thought, _I never introduced myself._ How could he have never introduced himself? How could he have never slipped an “I’m Viktor, by the way.” into conversation? How had Viktor spoken to Yuuri-with-two-Us every week-night for over a month and never mentioned his goddamn _name_?

But now Yuuri was leaning a little closer to him over the desk, so perhaps his faux pas hadn’t hurt his chances.

“Viktor,” Viktor said, “Nikiforov.”

His accent dripped off each syllable of his name.

Yuuri-with-two-Us smiled sweetly, genuine, and Viktor felt like he was living and dying all at once.

“Um, well, Viktor Nikiforov,” Yuuri said, stumbling a little on the unfamiliar words, “going out some time sounds lovely.”

“I suppose I’ll give you my number then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never used so many speech marks in my life...


	5. Holy Shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting ready for the hot date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its my half term break so hopefully I'll get a few more chapters done, so the wait won't be as long. Hopefully. Don't quote me on that.

By the time Yuuri got home from the rink, Phichit was just finishing up making them curry for dinner. Just one of the many advantages of having a roommate, particularly one who was good at cooking. They alternated who made breakfast and dinner, as well as who did all the other household chores, which made everything a lot easier. The flat was small: an open plan kitchen and living room, two tiny bedrooms and a bathroom. The paper thin walls meant Yuuri was all too familiar with what Phichit meant when he said he was having some ‘alone time’. His roommate could definitely stand to learn some volume control.

They ate diner sat cross-legged at the coffee/dining table before moving to the couch to watch something on Netflix.

“So I talked to that guy again today,” Yuuri said, in-between mouthfuls of popcorn, “and I got his number.”

Phichit’s attention was suddenly dragged away from the episode of Gilmore Girls, “Holy shit, dude. I told you sugar daddy wanted you.”

Or at least that’s what Yuuri guessed he was saying, Phichit had spoken with his mouth full. The couch was going to be covered in crumbs by the end of the night, but tomorrow was Phichit’s turn to clean the living room so Yuuri didn’t really mind. 

“Oh, and his name’s Viktor,” Yuuri said, tired of the awkward nickname, “so you can stop calling him sugar daddy now.”

“I _can_ but I _wont_.” Phichit smirked, “So did you get a date or what? Oh! If he buys you an iPad or something say you want it in rose gold.”

Yuuri scowled and deadpanned, “Phichit. I’m not exchanging sexual favours for Apple products. Besides, we’re just getting dinner, I doubt sex is on the table.”

Phichit giggled, “I would hope not. Wouldn’t want my best friend getting arrested for indecent exposure in a restaurant.”

Yuuri chocked on his drink and Phichit was still laughing, episode of Gilmore Girls playing in the background entirely forgotten. 

 

* * *

“Chris, holy shit.” Viktor said, in leu of a hello.

“Is that a good ‘holy shit’ or a bad ‘holy shit’?” Chris asked on the other end of the phone.

Viktor felt so ridiculously giddy. It was just a dinner date; a dinner date with a beautiful man he’d been trying to flirt with for a month, but a dinner date all the same. It was cliché as fuck but he felt like a lovesick teenager, like this was the first date he’d ever been on, not the first in a while. With all the bubbling excitement, Viktor needed to tell _someone,_ and Yuri had just grimaced and told him to stop being so fucking disgusting, so he called Chris instead.

“Good.” Viktor sighed. _Lovesick._ “Really good.”

“Well go on then, tell me.” Chris said, thoroughly intrigued, “Oh, and you’re on speaker, so don’t say anything you wouldn’t want my other half to hear.”

Viktor laughed, “By ‘other half’ do you mean your husband or your cat?”

“Just get on with it, Viktor.”

“Okay, okay.” Viktor agreed, “I have a date with Yuuri-with-two-Us.”

“Holy shit.”

It was by no means the first time Chris had heard about the beautiful man who worked at the ice rink. Viktor hadn’t shut up about the guy since he met him. Chris had never seen him — he had no reason to frequent ice rinks, and he wasn’t about to go just to sneak a peek at his friend’s crush — but Viktor had described Yuuri-with-two-Us in such vivid detail that Chris would probably recognise him if he saw him.

“We’re going out to dinner on Thursday, at that cute little Italian place that has the really good gelato.”

Viktor had briefly considered taking Yuuri to the kind of five-star, expensive restaurants he took prospective clients to, just because he _could;_ but they always seemed so impersonal and were frankly intimidating to anyone with an average income. So cute little Italian place it was. 

“Good choice.” Chris agreed, “It’s good to see you getting back out there. How’s kid-Yuri doing, anyway?”

“Better. He finally agreed to go back to skating, so he’s going to start going to practice again.” Viktor explained, “He did get suspended from school but, he was just _defending himself._ It’s fucking stupid.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear he’s feeling better, at least.” Chris sighed.

“Me too.”

 

* * *

_Okay, I’ve got clothes in my bag to change into, he’s picking me up at six, Yuuko said it was fine to close a little early so I could change, my phone is charged, Phichit knows where I’m going, I’ve been to that restaurant plenty of times, I know what I want to order, Viktor told me he likes me, we can talk about— oh god what are we going to talk about what if I can’t think of anything and we just sit there in silence fuck that would be so awkward I can’t do this I can’t do this fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckfuck—_

“Yuuri.” Yuuko placed her hand on his shoulder, and Yuuri almost jumped out of his skin. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s— It’s fine. I was just—” _Over-thinking. Panicking._

Yuuri took a few long, deep breaths. There was no way he could sit and continue to work for the next hour. He’d go insane. His thoughts were running together and if he didn’t calm down he’d wind up having a panic attack and having to cancel the only date he’d ever agreed to go on.

“How about you get some skates on and clear your head a little.” Yuuko said, pushing herself up to sit on the counter, “You can shower in the changing rooms later. There’s hairdryers in the ladies, so I’ll let you use those.”

“Thanks, Yuuko.”

Grabbing a pair of skates, Yuuri felt like he could breathe a little easier. Being out on the ice always helped: it burned off the restless energy in his limbs and there was something calmingly satisfying about the scrape of blades under his own feet. He skated lap after lap until the tremor was gone from his fingers, until his heart was pounding from exercise not anxiety, until the oxygen flooding his lungs was good for something other than making him dizzy. Yuuri was still nervous — that wouldn’t magically go away — but at least he was no longer on the edge of having an anxiety attack. He was also sweaty now, so retreated to the changing rooms to shower and change into his date clothes.

The t-shirt, cardigan and skinny jeans he’d picked out looked good on him. Phichit suggested he wear leggings, and Yuuri briefly considered it, but eventually decided on the marginally more modest option. The skinny jeans still hugged his thighs and ass, though — he wanted to look good, not just for Viktor but for himself. Yuuri wanted this to go well, and maybe lead to a second date, which would maybe lead to more. But only time would tell.


	6. Date Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The long awaited date is finally here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back by popular demand, this fic! I'm so sorry this update took so long. I took some time off from writing to focus on my exams, then had a bit of writer's block after I came back to it. After writing some one-shots, I finally got back into the swing of things and managed to write this. Hope you enjoy it!

Viktor _may_ have made a mistake. He hadn’t decided what to wear. A suit was too formal for the little Italian place they were going to, but just a t-shirt and jeans seemed too casual. Like he wasn’t trying hard enough, and he wanted Yuuri to know he was trying. He wanted Yuuri to know that this was important to him. After much deliberation, Viktor finally opted for his nicest pair of jeans and a jumper. He applied a thin layer of Channel lip balm (which he had to admit was just to show off because _yes even my lip balm is designer_ ) to keep his lips moisturised. He wasn’t hoping for anything more than a good-night kiss, but he still didn’t want his lips to be chapped.

“Yura, I’m going now.” Viktor said, poking his head around the door of the living room to see the teen lounging on the couch, Makkachin lay across his legs and Puma Tiger Scorpion on his stomach, “Keep your phone on and call me if you need anything. Be careful with the stove—”

“I’m fifteen, old man. I think I can use the stove.” Yuri growled, not looking up from his phone, “Go have your gross old-person date.”

“I’m _wounded_ , Yura! Mortally wounded!” Viktor cried, hand lifted dramatically to his forehead, “And almost late. I’ll be back by ten at the latest. See you later.”

“Whatever.”

 

* * *

 

Viktor took a taxi to the rink, and was just in time to see Yuuri speaking with one of the other rink employees. He’d seen the woman before, and guessed she must be the manager, since she was always coming in and out of the office room at the back of the rink. Viktor waited by the door for them to finish speaking, trying not to listen in but still catching the tail end of their conversation.

“And you’re sure my hair looks okay? It’s not gone frizzy?” Yuuri asked, hands smoothing over the back of his head.

“Yuuri. Your hair is fine.” The woman replied. Viktor thought Yuuri’s hair was _perfect_. “Oh, I think your date’s here.” She said, then, turning back toward the office door: “I’ll leave you to it.”

With that, the woman smiled at Yuuri and slipped back into the office. Yuuri turned sharply, a little flushed, and faced Viktor; his hands fidgeting with the bottom hem of his cardigan. Yuuri looked wonderful: skinny jeans that hugged the soft curves of his thighs and waist, and the various shades of blue in the floral pattern of his t-shirt suited Yuuri well, as did the navy shade of his cardigan.

“Hi!” Viktor greeted, cheerily, “Are you ready to go?”

“Um, one sec…” Yuuri replied, and Viktor watched as he quickly checked his pockets, mouthing ‘phone’ and ‘wallet’ as he found each in the pockets of his cardigan.

He was nervous, Viktor thought. More than the normal level of nervous. Heart-rate-spiking short-of-breath levels of nervous. _Oh god did he just say yes because I asked?_

“Okay, I’ve got everything.” Said Yuuri. “Sorry, uh,” a vague gesture, “I have anxiety. If I forget something I’ll be worrying about it all night.”

Yuuri’s openness surprised Viktor, but not in a bad way. Viktor was glad to know this now, so that he could be aware of it later. At some point — if this date went well enough for a second, a third — Viktor would ask Yuuri more about it, but for now Viktor could make some educated guesses about things he should and shouldn’t do. Surprising Yuuri with a big romanic gesture, he now knew, was probably a bad idea.

“Shall we get going then?” Yuuri asked, and they left the rink together.

 

* * *

 

With the weather being so nice, they had decided to meet up at the rink before walking the short distance to the restaurant. The air was warm but not uncomfortably so, and the only clouds in the sky where white and wispy and dissected by trails left in the wake of aeroplanes. He asked Viktor about his work and listened intently while Viktor described what it was like working in PR for a large company, which apparently involved a lot of meetings. From the way he talked, Yuuri suspected Viktor didn’t hate his work, but it wasn’t exactly a dream job either. Yuuri tried to keep this thoughts on the conversation, but he kept drifting back to what he’d said in the rink and whether or not casually bringing up his mental health was a good thing to do on a first date. Viktor needed to know, because if this went any further — and Yuuri hoped it did — Viktor might be around to see his anxiety rear its ugly head, and an anxiety attack might easily be mistaken for something more serious. Yuuri and his anxiety were kind of a package deal, and if that was going to put Viktor off it was better for him to know now, before Yuuri got invested.

“Anyway, enough about me,” Viktor smiled, “how long have you been working at the rink?”

“A few years,” Yuuri replied, “I started working there half way through uni and never found anything better. I’ve been friends with the manager, Yuuko, since we were kids so she gave me the job without even interviewing me.”

“What’s that like?” Viktor asked, looking genuinely interested, “Being friends with your manager?”

“Uh,” Yuuri laughed, “kinda weird. Are you friends with anyone at your work?”

“I get on well with everyone, but I wouldn’t say I was really _friends_ with them. My best friend works nights at a bar, but with looking after Yura, I don’t get to hang out there much.”

“Yura?” Yuuri asked, confused.

“Russian nickname for Yuri,” Viktor explained, “I call him that at home and I figured I can’t keep calling you Yuuri-with-two-Us.”

“It _is_ a little long-winded.”

The two continued chatting as they entered the restaurant, and as they waited for a table. The wait time wasn’t long, since apparently Viktor had made a reservation, so they were quickly seated at a nice table by the window. There were a few families with kids, but most of the children were too distracted by the dot-to-dot and tub of crayons they’d been given to be making much noise. This Yuuri was thankful for, because screaming children weren’t exactly a good soundtrack for a first date. The easy-listening radio station playing softly in the background was much more fitting.

“Do you drink?” Viktor asked, looking up from scanning the wine menu. When Yuuri answered yes, he added, “How about sharing a bottle of rosé?”

“Sounds good.” Yuuri smiled, “How about sharing the starter platter?”

“Sounds amazing.”

When their server arrived at the table, Yuuri was slightly dismayed to find that it was the owner’s daughter, which meant her brother would be here any minute and— oh there he was.

“Sara—” he started, but she cut him off.

“Mickey, dad pays you to do your job, not harass me every time I interact with a male customer.” She replied curtly. Then to Viktor and Yuuri asked, “Are you ready to order?”

Viktor ordered them the nice rosé, which Yuuri had always assumed was expensive but not better. It was better, but not enough to be worth being almost double the price. The starter platter was as amazing as it had sounded, as most of it was covered in garlic butter. Yuuri was glad he brought tic-tacs. As they talked over their food, Yuuri was struck by how relaxed he felt. He could hardly believe he'd almost had an anxiety attack over this. Viktor was lovely; asking him questions and listening attentively to his answers, telling anecdotes that made Yuuri giggle then complimenting his laugh. As wonderful as it all was, Yuuri started to feel that his own clumsy attempts at flirting were failing him. That was until Viktor lowered his eyes to twirl another forkful of carbonara and Yuuri couldn’t help but blurt out that Viktor’s eyelashes were pretty and Viktor blushed and smiled helplessly, like he’d never been paid a compliment in his life.

By the time they’d finished their meal, the sun was just beginning to set and the weather was as perfect as when they’d walked in. Viktor looked out of the window for a moment, seemingly considering something.

“It still looks nice out,” Viktor said, “how does getting some gelato to go sound?”

“Perfect.”


	7. Sunset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The thrilling conclusion to their date (after approximately 9 years of waiting).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who's back, back again
> 
> This fic is finally back! Thank you to everyone that was sending nice comments saying you were enjoying this story. I don't know why this chapter was so hard for me to write, but I was stuck for a while. And then I started university and had assignments to do, and some mental health stuff came up so...
> 
> When I started this fic, I didn't really have a plan for where it was going, but now I do! So hopefully, the next chapters won't take me 84 years to write, since I actually have an idea of what I'm doing.
> 
> The gelato they're eating is based off the "unicorn" flavour gelato at a restaurant near where I used to live (which is unfortunately closed now). I'm not sure I managed to explain it properly, so here's a [picture](https://www.instagram.com/p/BTwVuu6F-_H/?hl=en&taken-by=futurefishy).

“Any idea how they get the gelato like this?” Yuuri asked, taking a lick.

“Not a clue.” Viktor replied, regarding the tricoloured ice-cream, “You’d think the colours would merge if they just mixed it together.”

They had each opted for the mysterious yet delicious flavour that consisted of strawberry, vanilla and the ambiguously-flavoured blue gelato marbled together. Somehow, whoever made it managed to mix the flavours without having the pink, yellow and blue merge together into a beige mess.

Yuuri hummed in agreement, “I’d still love to know what this blue flavour is supposed to be.”

Viktor chuckled, “I asked once. They refused to tell me.”

“Whatever it’s supposed to be, it’s good.” Yuuri replied, before quickly licking at a bit that was in danger of melting down the side of his cone.

The park was quiet — only a few dog walkers — and it was still warm out, so it was the perfect place to end their date. Yuuri spotted an empty bench by the lake, so they sat and watched the ducks and swans while they finished their gelato. Viktor was relieved by how well this was going. He wouldn’t say he was nervous about it, but he was a little worried about how out of practice he was. Yuuri’s attempts at flirting were clumsy too, but in a charming sort of way. Another few stuttered compliments and Viktor would be putty in Yuuri’s hands. Viktor couldn’t tell if that was because Yuuri was so attractive or if it was just that he hadn’t dated in over a year. Probably, it was a bit of both.

“You said looking after Yura was weird,” Yuuri said, when the conversation had moved on to their family lives, “is it hard?”

Viktor thought for a moment, “It is difficult, yes. I’ll spare you the gory details but… It all happened quite suddenly, and I made the decision that was best for Yura but not the best for me.”

Yuuri nodded, and Viktor was thankful he didn’t ask any more questions.

“I’m glad I did it, though.” He continued, “He can be a pain in the arse, but he’s a good kid. Anyway… What about your family?”

Yuuri told him about his family’s bed and breakfast, and how his older sister Mari was going to take it over. He told him about his dog Vicchan — who lived with his parents, and how he wished he got to see him more. About how he and Phichit were roommates, and that Phichit had a lot of hamsters, and how their flat only allowed them to have small pets.

“Phichit spent the last week trying to convince me that you liked me.” Yuuri said, “I thought it was just wishful thinking.”

“Well, according to him, I wasn’t being very subtle.” Viktor chuckled, remembering how Phichit had called him out, “He told me to stop staring at your butt.”

“You were actually staring at my butt!?” Yuuri went fantastically red.

“I— Yes.” Viktor said, not really having any excuse. “You’re very attractive.”

“Maybe I’ll wear leggings next time then.” Yuuri smiled, then looked suddenly very worried, “If, um, if you want for there to be a next time.”

“Yes. I’d like that a lot.”

With the sun having set, and Yuuri needing to get the train home, they called it a night with the promise of a second date. After calling himself a taxi, Viktor took Yuuri’s hand, stroking a thumb over the skin of Yuuri’s wrist. Yuuri blushed, and looked up at him through his dark eyelashes, and Viktor thought this was the perfect time to ask, “Can I kiss you?”

But Yuuri let go of his hand.

“May— Maybe next time.” Yuuri stammered, not looking at him.

Next time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://futurefishy.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/futurefishy). I also have an [art blog](http://futurefishydraws.tumblr.com/).

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://futurefishy.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/futurefishy). I’m also starting to post more on my [art blog](http://futurefishydraws.tumblr.com/) and I’d really appreciate it if you checked it out.
> 
> Also, you can follow my new [chubby Yuuri appreciation side blog](http://chubbyyuuriisbae.tumblr.com/) to spread the love for this soft boy.


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